


Coach Mom(oe)

by SpringZephyr



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:08:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24938818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpringZephyr/pseuds/SpringZephyr
Summary: The kids look up to Momoe as someone who's more experienced and mature, someone who works hard and also listens to their problems. Basically, like a second mother.
Relationships: Abe Takaya/Mihashi Ren
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	Coach Mom(oe)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chell/gifts).



> I had the big brain idea to write about the entire team even though the closest I've gotten to reading/watching Big Windup! recently is thinking about it. But I've wanted to restart the manga, so...?

“I need your help with something,” Abe says.

Momoe can tell from the way he's sitting that it's not about baseball. His posture is looser than normal, like he's trying _too hard_ to relax. Adding to that the fact that he specifically waited until everyone else had left for home, and it's obvious that there's something up.

“What's up?” she asks, smiling like she has all the time in the world for this. Let Abe believe she does – the kid needs to open up sometimes.

Her shift cutting grass at a nearby motel is supposed to start in less than an hour, but it's okay. The schedule is flexible, she warned them about things like this happening at the interview. The lawn isn't more important than the kids anyway.

“How do you stop liking someone?” Abe's not the type to showcase his feelings openly. He's obviously put some thought into this. And he's trying so hard to keep a straight face that his features all shrink together like he has a stomach ache.

“Is this about Mihashi?”

“What the hell – ”

“Am I wrong?” Momoe asks innocently. If she is, then she's willing to apologize.

Abe recollects himself quickly, rising from his seat as he smooths the fabric of his pants. “No,” he confesses. He's grumbling, his voice is deeper than normal. He's also not looking her in the eye, which probably helps mitigate some of the embarrassment. “Do you think he likes me back? Wait, no...”

Momoe reads his mind so perfectly that they say the next part in unison, “What if I tell him I like him, and our battery falls apart?”

“I think he'd be more hurt if he finds out later that you didn't trust him enough to let him know,” Momoe says gently. She has Abe's attention now. Which means he's probably going to tell him.

X

The next day, Tajima approaches her. “Abe said you gave him some advice?”

As far as Momoe knows – and she's certain she would know if Abe had told them anything – the rest of the team is still oblivious to their catcher's predicament. However, she can imagine him talking in circles about it.

“Do you need advice too?”

Momoe braces herself with a smile, because if Tajima is asking for help, it most likely involves either math or his penis. Frankly, Shiga is better equipped to answer those sorts of questions than she is. She promises herself that she'll redirect them to their club's supervisor if necessary.

But he surprises her. “How do you buy someone a gift they'll like?”

She must have let her surprise show, because he immediately steps forward, so close she can smell that cheap cologne he's started using, and says, “ My mom's birthday is coming up, and you're like, I dunno, kind of like a mom – ”

“I'm like a mom?” Momoe asks.

She's twenty-three. She's never been interested in having children. Nine baseball players, their team manager, and her dog are all the children she'll theoretically ever need.

Somehow, she's too caught off guard to decide whether or not Tajima saying she's like a mom is a good thing.

"Don't take that the wrong way!" Tajima shouts, much louder than necessary. He jumps back to where he was originally standing, and begins to prattle, "I'm only saying that 'cause you're thoughtful and you look out for all of us, you work a buncha jobs and stuff, and I've never seen you take a day off!”

She doesn't quite catch all of that, because he's speaking too quickly, but it's probably not important. “Are you calling me old?” she asks, just to tease him.

“No!”

It's hard not to laugh at that reaction.  
“Anyway, I need a gift, and I tried asking Hanai first, but his advice  _ sucked _ . And don't say 'it's the thought that counts'” – that is definitely the kind of advice Hanai would give – “because I want it to be something good!"

“Tell you what,” Momoe says, “Why don't we pick a day to discuss what your mom likes and look for something together?”

X

  
  


It's Oki, actually, who approaches her for math help.

“I'd feel bad if I made Hanai explain it to me a fourth time,” Oki explains. With only a few words, he's managed to paint a pretty clear picture of Hanai with a textbook in front of him, running a hand across his forehead and not understanding why  _ Oki _ wasn't understanding. “Maybe... maybe it's his teaching method?”

He sounds, at the same time, hopeful and like he has a hard time believing his failing math has anything to do with the way Hanai teaches.

Momoe isn't particularly bad at math. She's very good, in fact, at the important parts of it – the parts she considers important, at least. Like adding the sales tax on large purchases and making monthly budgets. She's passed on all of her knowledge on how to calculate the nutritional value of the team's meals and compile player statistics to Shinooka, who's doing quite well at both of those things. And fractions. But when she opens Oki's textbook to the pages he's crammed his notebook between, it's all lines and graphs and finding points x and y.

"We're actually at this part now," Oki says, and flips forward a few pages, and great, now there's a point z they have to find also.

“Okay.” Momoe takes a deep breath to prepare herself.

This is more intimidating than any skyscraper she's ever scaled, or the knowledge that any time Nishiura loses, there's a chance some male coach from another school will claim it's her fault. She can't redirect him to Shiga though, despite what she'd promised with Tajima.

If Oki has asked her for help, then she has to at least try. "Let's think of it in baseball terms," Momoe suggests.

After staring at the same sentence for at least three minutes, Momoe realizes that the book's explanation could be written in Portuguese and it wouldn't make any more sense. Her eyes  _ will not _ focus long enough for the words to come together, but she remembers from high school that point z is supposed to make a graph three dimensional. It doesn't take long to set up a baseball narrative using that information: Line x is the ground, line y is the sky, and z is heading toward the outfield.

An hour of this flies past. Momoe has run her hand through her bangs so many times it's sticking straight up in some places. It doesn't feel as though they've made any progress at all, but then Oki smiles and says, “Thanks, Coach, I think I get it now!” and it doesn't sound as though he's kidding.

Once he leaves, she thinks about this some more. Learning by teaching. He had to explain the problems to her quite a few times, while she fumbled through attempts at helping him. 

X

Shinooka invites herself along when she and Tajima are about to go shopping. “I need to look for some new onigiri ideas anyway,” is her excuse, but the place they're going doesn't even sell groceries. Momoe thinks it's a half truth at absolute best.

She doesn't press, because Shinooka is a good kid. 

They wind up constantly loosing Tajima as he weaves in and out of the crowd, browsing shops and stands set up in the hallway alone, which means they have plenty of time to talk about the things that don't interest him. For example, Shinooka has a crush on Abe. (Momoe can't bring herself to tell Shinooka that it's probably a lost cause). At some point, she says, “Tajima is being very well-behaved today,” and Momoe has to think very carefully about her response.

“I think even Tajima knows better than to start taking his clothes off in a crowd this big,” she says finally.

“It's not just that,” Shinooka replies. “He's, like – more focused than normal? You know how boys – well, especially Tajima – like to talk about their... in front of girls, and other gross things? Boys are disgusting.”

“Has Tajima said anything to make you uncomfortable?”

Momoe has to measure her response it's one of the ingredients for a cake. Tajima, for all his quirkiness, doesn't _seem_ like the type of kid to make his schoolmates uncomfortable like that. But just in case, Momoe doesn't want to risk belittling Shinooka by ignoring the problem, or saying _“he's only joking”_. Having been through high school herself once, _“you shouldn't take them so seriously”_ was some of the worst advice she ever received. 

Shinooka frowns very intensely, like she's about to say something she knows she shouldn't. Which is wrong – 

“Maybe it's because I'm used to Tajima,” she confesses, but Momoe wants to tell her it's not a confession, if someone is making her uncomfortable, she's allowed to talk about it, “but I was actually thinking of someone else. He rates all of the girls by their appearance, but some of the girls still talk to him anyway.”

Then she gasps, and Momoe tenses, because she's standing next to a convenient stall carrying baseball shaped snowglobes, and she's pretty sure she will get into a lot of trouble if she grabs one and throws it like a fastball into some high schooler's face. But when she follows Shinooka's finger to where she's pointing, it's not so bad – there's a claw machine tucked into the corner of the room, and Shinooka is babbling, “That doggy, that doggy on top looks like Ai, doesn't it?”

Tajima reappears out of nowhere at that moment, still wearing all of his clothes (thank goodness), and shouting, “I wanna know what you guys think of the gift I found, but I'd need to borrow about 5,000 yen...” He cuts himself off, taking time to register what Shinooka has just said, then continues shouting with twice as much excitement, “Ai?!”

Everyone runs over to the claw machine, and Shinooka hastily inserts money only to lose miserably. She doesn't succeed on her second try either. But the dog plushie is so close to the surface, Momoe is certain they could pick it up if they could just position the claw right.

“Hold on,” Momoe says. “We can pinpoint where the claw needs to go by estimating the height, width, and depth of the machine. The height will be our y axis, x is our width, and y is the depth.”

Maybe she learned something from doing homework with Oki after all. This seems like the longest possible method to get a simple stuffed toy, but Shinooka is excited just at the thought of getting it. And Tajima could probably use a math refresher anyway. According to Abe, Oki, and Hanai, there's an upcoming test on the subject.

Finding out where the claw needs to go becomes a sort of game that even Tajima is able to get into. It takes a long time, but they have fun doing it.

...It also doesn't work, so Momoe continues spending money until they get the dog toy anyway.

X

Apparently, Tajima's “mom-like” comment has caught on with the rest of the team. They attempt to hide it from her at first, but she finds out by accident when Mizutani calls her “Mom” one day. He trips – on both his tongue and his feet – before hastily adding an “oe” to the end.

“Momoe. Coach Momoe.”

“Either is fine.”

Momoe decides in that instant that being called 'Mom' doesn't bother her. It's a joke started by a group of high schoolers. There's a three-quarters chance they'll have forgotten about it in a week. But also, most moms are pretty cool. They're not saying it to be mean – it's a term of endearment.

To reinforce how much she doesn't care, Momoe smiles extra wide as she says, “What do you need, Mizutani?”

He hops from one foot to the other a bit. “So Abe's been in a really bad mood lately...”

Yes, it's easy to see how an uniformed person would get that impression. Abe has been communicating his feelings in – what Momoe would refer to as _not the most successful way_. And given the type of person Abe is, like in general, it's not a stretch for anyone to assume he's getting angry or frustrated whenever his face turns red and splotchy.

“He's yelling at Mihashi all the time again, and the weirdest thing is, Mihashi's started yelling back – ”

“Would you really call what they're doing 'yelling at each other'?”

Raising their voices, sure. But they're not fighting. For example, she recalls a conversation they had during practice the other day – _“Stop looking at my eyes, idiot! My mitt is down here!”, “I'm s-s-s-sorrryyy, they're so distractinggg!”_ , and –

Actually, how the hell has everyone on the team not realized what's happening yet? Then again, Mizutani can be kind of an idiot. Maybe it's just him who hasn't noticed yet.

“Well... kind of? They're acting strange.”

Momoe nods in agreement. No reason to try and dispute that.

“I guess I'm just worried.”

Apparently, this has been on Mizutani's mind since yesterday. He explains how his friends from middle school hardly talk to him anymore – some of them have quit playing baseball, when it was the main thing they had in common. Others are tired of how the only thing he talks about is baseball, because it's the only thing they had in common.

“We talked about other things too, when I used to see them every day!” Mizutani pouts. “But my dad told me that's normal. He says he stopped talking to all of his old friends after everyone moved onto college and started applying for their first jobs...”

“True, that does happen sometimes,” Momoe says. She's one of the people who became 'preoccupied with work' herself. “I still talk to a few of my old teammates though. Email makes it pretty easy these days.”

Mizutani looks up. “So what, what do adults talk about?”

“Oh, we gossip about how our kids are doing and stuff – ”

“What are you talking about, you big old worrywart?!” Izumi sneaks up behind Mizutani, pounces on him from behind. “Everybody loves talking to you! And didn't we say we were going to be friends forever and grow old together?”

To Momoe, that sounds both juvenile and cliché, but who is she to judge? Izumi balls up his hand, grinding his knuckles against the top of Mizutani's head. His smirk grows a little wider at every one of Mizutani's protests until finally Mizutani says, “Okay, okay, I'll stop worrying!” and they both watch Mizutani walk away, muttering, “if I have to grow old with anyone, why does it have to be someone who gives noogies from hell...?”

“I'm the one who has to worry,” Izumi mutters, watching Mizutani kick at the ground as he goes. He looks up at Momoe. “How do adults make friends?”

“We go to work and talk about our jobs, our children, and how much coffee we drink.”

Izumi makes a face.

“Just kidding.”

“But you can make friends?” he asks, just in case. “I mean, I guess my mom has a scrapbooking group and my dad has this book club he enjoys, but that's – that sounds so _boring_.”

“But you did just answer your own question,” Momoe points out.

“Yeah?”

“Those things obviously aren't boring to your parents. You can find adults with similar interests – hell, I almost joined an adult baseball league, but I wanted to try coaching instead.”

She can practically see the neurons firing as Izumi thinks about that for a moment. “Well, I already hang out with a bunch of baseball nuts. I can't imagine Mihashi or Abe growing out of baseball any time soon.”

He doesn't look like he's convinced himself yet, but he's cut short by Mizutani yelling from across the field, “Get over here, I wanna show you something!” He's waving his phone around, so it's probably either a new song dropped by one of his favorite bands or a cat video that Izumi and Sakaeguchi are going to snark at him for at least a week over. Regardless, sometimes Izumi just looks relieved every time someone wants to talk to him.

“Can I talk to you about this again sometime?” he asks.

Between the part time jobs and all of the life assistance and listening Momoe's been doing lately, it's hard to imagine when she'll have the time. But of course, if she ever runs out of time, she'll just make more – that's the way Momoe has always been. So she nods her head and Izumi smiles and runs off and she finds out, later, that it was indeed another silly cat video that Mizutani wanted to show him.

X

On the same day Tajima returns the money he borrowed to buy his mother a portable speaker for her birthday (Momoe wonders about that – does his mom listen to a lot of music?), she stumbles upon Suyama frowning very intensely at something in his sketchbook. He doesn't ask for her help, but he's making a face like he could use it, and Momoe takes the initiative. 

“It's missing something,” he replies.

He doesn't look up, and he doesn't try to stop her when she moves closer to get a better look either.

The fact that Suyama enjoys drawing and baking and similar quiet hobbies is information that Momoe had stored in the back of her mind, but never really thought about before. At least not until now. He's pretty good at it.

“It's missing a frame and a place to be put on display,” Momoe says, quite firmly. “You know, the walls in my apartment are looking a little empty. I'd love to hang this up at home.”

It's a picture of a baseball player. An outline of a baseball player, to be exact, and he's added splashes of color within the outline using some watercolor pencils to obscure the fact that the player has no features. Maybe that's what Suyama is worried is missing, but in Momoe's opinion, the player doesn't need

Suyama's reaction is quiet, subtle. He raises his eyebrows slightly and his mouth parts just a hair-width – but Momoe means every word. What's wrong with all these kids and not having any self-confidence anyway?

X

Reliable, dedicated, always on time for practice Hanai will not be attending practice today. He walks past the field not wearing his baseball uniform, ten minutes after the rest of the team has already begun running laps, and of course she wastes no time in calling him over. Initially, she's mad – because if Hanai had an important reason to skip, he should've known in advance, and if he'd known in advance, he should've told her.

“I got into a bit of a fight,” he says, sounding sheepish.

Upon closer inspection, yes, there are some scrapes on his knuckles that could have feasibly come from fighting. She doesn't have to wait for him to explain, because he does it without being asked, “I caught some guy from Shinooka's class claiming he could tell everyone what color underwear some of the girls were wearing...”

“Did you throw the first punch?” Momoe asks.

“No. But he didn't take too kindly to me grabbing his shoulder and telling him to stop either.”

When Hanai threatened to leave the team the first time they'd met, she wouldn't have thought he was the type of guy to get up in arms over things like this. But especially now that he'd had some time to mature emotionally, everyone knows that Hanai can't just walk past someone who's upset.

Shiga will probably quietly disagree with this later, because he should've reported it to a teacher first and they're not going to have a baseball team left if Momoe encourages them all to become delinquents, blah blah blah, but she nods approvingly and tells him that some things are worth fighting for.

X

Momoe tries to be patient when it's finally Mihashi's turn to help. She really, really does, especially considering how long she's known it was going to happen. Aside from having answered questions, listened to complaints, and otherwise tried to assist nearly every one of his teammates so far... Well, the whole Abe thing isn't exactly going so great.

But it's not going poorly either.

They get along. That's not the problem.

They're just terrible at flirting.

She listens to Mihashi try to sputter out a question for at least half a minute, before urging him to “just spit it out already!” He stands straighter and makes that baby bird expression he always does, the one where he's learned he's about to be pushed out of the nest to see if he can fly, but hasn't quite registered what that means yet.

“Date!” he spits out obediently. “I w-w-wanna go on a date w-w-with...” Momoe waits to see what will happen. “ _Someone._ ”

“Do they like you back?”

He nods.

“Then what's the problem?” Momoe tries to say this gently, for Mihashi's sake, because aside from Abe apparently trying to keep their relationship lowkey, she has no idea what the problem might be.

“N-no money...”

Oh, right. They are high schoolers. Even Momoe runs into the problem of having no money for herself from time to time – granted, that's also because she spends most of it on the baseball team.

“No money or not a lot of money?” Momoe asks. Because, first of all, she needs to break Mihashi out of this defeatist state of mind. He squirms when he admits he get some spending money from his mother every week, probably anticipating being yelled at. Momoe's not going to yell, at least not in this situation. “That makes a difference,” she says.

Ice cream parlors are pretty cheap. Two person truth or dare. Make pillow forts and search for constellations in the sky at night. Eventually, Mihashi loosens up and begins contributing his own ideas.

“Watch old movies together!”

“That's the spirit! How about learning crochet?”

“Actually finishing a game of Monopoly!”

“Good one! That'll absolutely guarantee at least four hours of time spent together!” Or Abe finding out if Mihashi's bathroom window is large enough to crawl out of. Momoe doesn't think he would actually do that, but she also couldn't handle sitting through an entire game of Monopoly herself. “Gluing googly eyes on everything in your mom's fridge!”

“Eating all of the free samples at the grocery store!”

“Nerf gun fight!”

“Playing frisbee in the park!”

“Make 'em a homemade gift!”

“We could have a video game marathon!”

“You could go ghost hunting!”

Momoe's excited about this one, but Mihashi quickly shakes his head. Too bad. That used to be one of her favorite things to do, going ghost hunting in the middle of the night knowing that one of her friends had definitely received a flashlight that was low on battery power as a prank.

Plus, some people become clingy when they were scared. Or... clingier, in Mihashi's case, because now that she's mentioned it, she can't imagine him staying calm while searching for restless spirits. Like, at all.

But they've spent a lot of time yelling back and forth at each other about cheap date ideas, and if Shiga were here, he'd probably have something to say about the cathartic effect screaming has on people. Momoe, who is not a science person, skips straight to the, “Do you feel better now?” part.

Mihashi nods vigorously and that's the end of that, another job well done.

X

Sakaeguchi is the last member of the team to ask her something. How he's managed to refrain from this for so long, she doesn't know, but his request is another simple one.

“Can you do something about Abe and Mihashi?” he asks.

She almost laughs. Then she remembers the conversation she had with Mizutani a while ago, and prepares for another conversation like that. But first, Sakaeguchi pulls a tired face and continues, “Some of us are starting to get _jealous_ , with how obviously _in love_ they are. Mihashi's bringing him cookies...”

Right, Momoe remembers how burnt those were. Which is strange, because Mihashi is normally a pretty good cook. _“I-I-I'm sorrryyy, I didn't have t-t-t-time to make a s-second batch!”_

On the other hand, Abe is apparently not being as low-key as he thought. And Momoe is proud of the rest of the team for noticing – they have a few brain cells between them after all. Or maybe it's just Mizutani that's always weirdly oblivious.

“Abe's started reading out loud to him... Said something about going to the craft store and buying a bucket of googly eyes, don't know what that's about...” Sakaeguchi makes a noise that is somewhere between a whimper and a growl while running his hands through his hair. “Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for them! But I'd like to find someone for myself too, you know...?!”

It's entirely dumb luck that Mihashi and Abe joined the same baseball club and have many three braincells between them that aren't dedicated to playing ball. Sakaeguchi will find his person some day too, and of course that's not an answer that satisfies him – but it's the only answer that's realistic. He has a great sense of humor, everyone loves him. Momoe knows for certain that he's not going to end up forever alone like he's convinced he will.

X

Hamada reminds her that she has more than nine baseball players, a team manager, and a dog for children when he approaches her one day and says, “Hey, Mom...?” Honestly, she wouldn't have imagined Hamada saying such a thing with a straight face, but apparently he can. A couple of the other cheerleaders have already lined up behind him – maybe they came as a group or maybe they have their own things to say.

“What can I help you with?” Momoe asks with a tired but willing smile. Crazy how attached she's gotten to this group of kids, although she's never considered herself the maternal type before in her life.

Momoe guesses the old adage is true, that a mother's work is never done.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what else to say about this except I hope it's not too OoC, please forgive me if it is, I'm worried I crammed too many rapidfire plot points into this story, uhhh... I wrote this in less time than I normally give myself, I like doing trades, and also I may or may not be going back to writing Tower of God fic next.
> 
> You can tell I did less editing than usual because of how many run-on sentences there are. OMG OMG OMG I'm sorry.


End file.
